Turnabout
by Handful of Silence
Summary: In which the roles between Hannibal and the team are reversed, Faceman has a plan, tanks are used as getaway vehicles ,although fortunately for BA it isn't airborne, and HM Murdock lives up to his nickname when it comes to providing a distraction.
1. Part 1

_Summary: In which the roles between Hannibal and the team are strangely reversed, Faceman has a plan, tanks are again used as getaway vehicles (although fortunately for BA it isn't airborne) and Howlin' Mad Murdock lives up to his nickname when it comes to providing suitable distraction. _

_Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. _

* * *

**Turnabout**

**_Turn-a-bout: (noun).  
_**_1.A person who changes things; a radical  
__2.A reciprocal act; the action of doing to someone exactly as that person has done to oneself or another_

There was no question that they would go back for him.

Face hadn't even allowed himself to consider the possibility of anything otherwise, and he knew that neither BA nor Murdock would consider it either. It probably wouldn't even be mentioned by way of their options. That wasn't how they did things round here, had never done it that way. You never leave anyone behind, was the unspoken rule within their lawless group, and it was a rule they had always honoured without question. They were Hannibal's boys, Rangers who had found each other in the strangest of circumstances. When Hannibal met BA, he shot him in the shoulder. When Face met Murdock, the pilot set his arm alight. Somehow their first impressions of each other had survived all that, and years later they were all still together, despite being imprisoned, despite being set up, despite everything. They were a group, the 'A' team, the four of them closer than brothers; family in their own right. They'd fought together, suffered together, and each person had found a kinship within the others that survived it all. Another factor unspoken was the loyalty that lined their bonds, and they all would fight tooth and claw to make sure the others were safe.

Of the nearly ten years they had been their group of four, Face had never known any of them even consider leaving another one of their group behind. It was sacrilege, blasphemy of the highest order, and the bonds of friendship and loyalty crossed over any barriers of risk or common sense. Personal regard didn't even come into it when one of them was in danger, even with their differences. Within the group Murdock and BA were probably the two that got along the least- at least on the outside- but Face had seen once when the Sergeant had been injured, Murdock had fought like the madman he could have been, eyes wild and shouting curses in at least three languages as he reloaded the clip in his gun in order to protect his team-mate. BA, despite his constant complaints about 'that crazy fool', Face knew would have done exactly the same if the situation had called for it.

Out of all of them however, it was probably the Colonel who had saved their asses the most times, with his impromptu "well-thought-out" plans and hare-brained schemes. Hannibal had come back for them when he had escaped from Fort Carson- hadn't just left them behind to fend for themselves . He could have just left, could have found himself a small remote area to settle down in where no-one would ever find him. He wouldn't have had to think about his colleagues-who had asked to be tried on their own backs instead of allowing their leader to take responsibility, their voices standing out loud and unafraid in the courtroom. Hannibal hadn't had to rescue them, but on escape it was the first thing he did. Hannibal had never left any of them behind.

And so now they would do the same for him.

* * *

"_Hurry up, Face" Hannibal urged as the three of them raced down the corridors of the military base. It was grey and concrete, like most they had come across, although Murdock was adamant that a bit of paint and colour would make this whole place suitable for the housing-market. The military home of a Nigerian Warlord didn't appear to Face an attractive property investment, and he had told Murdock this as the two of them cracked the safe in the warlord's personal quarters, taking the contents within, helpfully all contained inside one black briefcase. But by now, Obesandjo - the warlord they'd just stolen the confidential suitcase full of secret plans for military invasion off (although they couldn't have been that secret if other people- specifically the party they had been hired by to retrieve them- had known about them)- had obviously realised what they'd done, and Face could hear the shouts starting up behind them as guards quickly jumped to follow orders from a most likely angered boss. _

"_Just one more door to go through gentlemen" , came Murdock's voice in front of them, his accent cut-glass British, sounding like a Victorian age Legionnaire "Come on now, pip-pip!"_

"_This is way too close Hannibal" Face looked at the Colonel as they reached the deadlocked door in front of them. The whole place was filled with the things and they seemed to be the newly formed enemy of Murdock in particular, considering it was him whose job it was to bypass the relays to get the damn things open. It really should have been BA considering his skills in mechanics and phone-tapping, but it had fallen on Murdock when it turned out he knew how to work computers like he knew how to stage a good sock-puppet show or make a good anti-freeze marinade. "Next time- no angry Nigerians, ok?"_

"_Don't worry," Hannibal said with his usual devil-may-care expression. The suitcase that was the cause of all their troubles was held tightly in his hand , and for once Face was glad that they were getting well paid for retrieving it, because he definitely wanted a couple of days break from people trying to kill him. It did get tiresome at times. Hannibal however, looked as unruffled as ever and Face almost expected him to pull a cigar from his pocket, he looked that at ease. But then Hannibal always exuded an air of calm that had helped them keep their heads in many a mission; when Face got doubtful about the plan, or Murdock had one of his 'moments' when the timing was just too unsuitable, or when BA refused and threatened when they tried to get him onto a plane- particularly a plane piloted by a certain invisible-dog owning Capitan . Hannibal always had something to say that would make everything seem ok, and it was one of the many reasons why Face trusted his commander to such an extent. "There's always a plan remember?"_

_Face rolled his eyebrows, but there was a smirk on his face from the thrill of it all, the danger giving him the adrenaline rush that came with all the jobs they did. The door slid open with a creaking noise as Murdock worked his magic on the electric panel, singing 'Electric Avenue' as he did so, and Hannibal and Face went through quickly, knowing the exit to be at the end of the long corridor before them, where BA was waiting for them with their escape transport. _

"_Come on Murdock" Face pressed ,lingering to wait for the pilot. He could hear the men getting closer, their shouts mingled with the thud of their boots against the concrete floor, and he didn't want to hang around to find out what they were saying. He'd rather prefer not to get to know them personally. _

"_Er, Houston...," Murdock said, his expression frowning, the actions of his fingers against the type pad suddenly frantic. "Mayday! Mayday! I think we got a problem here" Face frowned with confusion. Usually, the locks worked on a timer system, and when Murdock typed in the correct settings and code, he would have five seconds to get to the other side of the door before it closed behind him. It would give them a bit more time to get away, especially considering the added extra Murdock had coded in; a secondary layer of pass code systems that would take the men on the other side at least a couple of minutes to break through, giving them time to get out of the base and into the GMC Bosco was driving _

"_How big an issue?" Hannibal said urgently as he moved back to where Murdock was, looking over the pilot's shoulder with a concerned look. He didn't like it when things didn't go to plan;although Face was sure he should have gotten used to it by now. Hannibal's plans never turned out the way they were meant to. _

"_Those dastardly injun's cut the automatic power grid for the doors" Murdock looked worried, his fingers still trying for a solution, but finding none , the pilot biting his lip as he struggled with the system"Door won't operate 'less it's manual"_

"_So what's wrong with that?" Face asked quickly , hearing the soldiers getting closer "There's a panel on this side. We can lock those guys out, no harm"_

"_It only closes from this side now it's been opened" Hannibal spoke instead of Murdock, his look dark before an expression of action came into his eyes "HM, check it wont work from that side. We need to be sure"_

_Murdock looked doubtful as though he was sure it wouldn't work, but nodded regardless, moving over to the side of the door Face was on to check the system, accessing the panel with a few deft taps of his fingers. _

_Suddenly, without any warning, Hannibal calmly keyed the required locking code into panel, the door moving quickly across and shutting the two sides off , slamming closed with a reserved clink that seemed to echo down the long corridor. _

"_Shit! Hannibal?" Face swore, shouting through the window of the door so that Hannibal could hear him on the other side through the two inches of metal and glass, seeing the Colonel through the glass portion of the door that served as a small window-hole. Murdock looked panicked, thinking it might have possibly been his actions on this side that had caused the door to close, his efforts focusing on reversing the damage. "Hannibal, you gotta open this door. They'll be on you in a second"_

"_That's the idea," Hannibal smiled casually from the other side, his words muffled by the gap , his brogue seeming strengthened with the distance between them. "The door wont close without a manual lock for the secondary pass code system to kick in, and if this door isn't closed you wont have enough time to get out"_

"_Hannibal, stop jacking around and open the goddamn door!" Face slammed his fist onto the metal, angry that this choice had had to be made. The metal clanged loud and his hand jarred painfully, but he didn't notice as he looked at Hannibal , trying to make him understand that of all the plans the Colonel had ever had, Face definitely considered this the most stupid and foolhardy one of them all, the one that was most likely going to get him killed . Murdock worked frantically, muttering to himself as all his knowledge of electrical systems went into trying to bypass what Hannibal had done . But the Colonel had been right in what he had said, the door was only operable on manual from the side he was on. There was nothing Murdock could do, but Face watched out of the corner of his eye as the pilot stubbornly refused the facts, pulling the front of the panel off in an effort to get to the wiring underneath "We all get outta here, we stick together"_

"_Relax, kid," Hannibal looked so infuriatingly calm from the other side, and Face watched as he reached into his pocket and brought out a cigar, which he placed in his mouth, smirking "It's just a deviation from the plan, that's all. I'll give you guys more time to get out of here. I know you boys'll come back and get me"_

"_We can't just _leave _you!" Face said, needing Hannibal to understand. This wasn't how they did things, wasn't how they could do things. This plan had too many flaws, too many things that could go wrong. _

"_You have to if you wanna get that package away." Hannibal urged "Unless you want to get caught as well. I'm sure BA can rescue the three of us by himself" Hannibal's face was grave for a moment as he considered the thought before he smiled fondly at Face"Get outta here, Lieutenant. That's an order. "_

_Face was silent for a moment before he looked up directly into Hannibal's eyes. He hated this, every damn-stinking thing about it, but it was the only option they had now Hannibal had taken charge , like the leader he was. "We're coming back." Face said, his expression serious "I promise"_

"_Of that I have no doubt"Hannibal gave a small salute with his cigar, and Face could hear the soldiers almost upon him, the shouts audible even through the glass. Time was running out. Painfully, as though it was physically hurting him, he saluted back, then turned away- his back to his Colonel, hating himself. Grabbing the case from where he'd left it on the floor, he pulled Murdock along after him by the sleeve of his bomber jacket, the pilot looking confused for a second as he allowed himself to be pulled along the corridor. _

"_But Facey, Hannibal's still back there!"_

"_I know" Face said quietly, continuing to pull along the pilot before Murdock suddenly realised what that meant, resisting Face's hold, trying to get away , trying to run back to where Hannibal would be, his first instinct to protect his commander, not some damn case. It was Face's first instinct as well, but he rallied against it no matter the moral anguish it caused him. If they didn't get out, they'd all be in the hands of Obesandjo's men, and then that would help nobody. Hannibal could look after himself in the time it took Face to rally a rescue plan. At least that's what Face kept telling himself as he tried to pull Murdock back. Telling himself, even though he didn't really believe in it. _

"_We gotta go back an' get him Face!" Murdock said loudly, confused that Face was holding him back, that Face wasn't helping him try and rescue Hannibal "That's no place to abandon him, he's our Colonel, we can't jus' leave him. Let go, Faceman, we gotta get him outta there"_

"_Murdock, stop it." Face tried to explain, "Murdock, just stop..." But Murdock was adamant, his loyalty clouding his judgement, leaving Face to be the bad-guy and to make the decisions that hurt . He was in charge now, no matter how much he hated the responsibility. _

"_What if they kill him Facey? What if they put one of their goddamned cowardly stinking bullets into his chest and just leave him to die like we're doin'..."_

"_Shut up, Murdock!" Face slammed Murdock against the wall of the corridor, the pilot giving a small cry as his back connected hard against the solid concrete, Face's frustration showing itself in a violent outburst. "We can't go back, not now ok?" Murdock tried to protest, and Face hated that he was so mad, hated that it was Murdock he was mad at, Murdock who was only saying aloud what Face's frantic thoughts were thinking too. He tried to calm himself, slowly letting go of the hard grip he had on Murdock, knowing there would be marks on Murdock's shoulders from where Face's nails had unconsciously dug in, the self-hate rising in his throat like bile"They wont kill him." He whispered, trying to convince himself, yet he wanted to scream, wanted to shout and grab his gun and run back to Hannibal, break that door down with his damn fists if he had to. Hannibal couldn't die, just couldn't because Face wasn't ready to deal with that, not ever. '_Death does not wait for us to be ready' _Hannibal had once told him, but Face pushed the memory out his head. He didn't even want to consider that alternative. "He's too valuable, he knows about this package and where we're gonna take it. They need to find that out first" _

"_They'll hurt him Facey" Murdock's voice was suddenly childlike, his thoughts conflicted between an instant desire to rescue his Colonel and listening to what Face was telling him. Face never lied to Murdock, and the pilot knew that. Face had known Hannibal before the rest of them had, was the one Hannibal always confided his doubts in when he couldn't tell BA or Murdock, and if _Face _was saying that they couldn't go back, it must have been serious. But Murdock was still worried, and Face looked desperately back down the corridor to see if any guards had got past the door. He heard gunfire,and closed his eyes for a moment as he hoped to any god that Hannibal wouldn't get himself killed before they could get him out "He wont tell them anything about the package" Murdock said, seriously, looking at Face "He wont tell them Face, and if he wont, they'll hurt him to try"_

"_We'll get him out before that happens" Face said, looking into the pilot's panicked eyes "I promise you Murdock, we'll get him outta there"_

_Something in Face's eyes must have told Murdock what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear, the pilot stopping his struggling under Face's hold. But his eyes gazed gravely at Face, boring into him, not one trace of madness present at that moment but displaying all the fear and anxiety he suddenly housed inside him. For one frightening moment, the worried man in front of him, the man Face had known for nearly ten years, looked quite sane. _You're crazy, _Face told Murdock once, and the pilot had simply looked at him with a half smirk and replied; _Not that crazy. _And right now, Face believed him. _

"_Well, we better be quick about it" he said, with those sober eyes looking right at Face, "'Cause I don't think they're gonna beat about the bush with trying to get some answers."_

* * *


	2. Part 2

_A.N. Thank you to **xLittleBlackStarzx**, **silverwolfneko-chan**, and** Noutchka** for your kind reviews. They mean a lot to me. _

_Now, on with the show!_

* * *

Face rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, clearing them free from tiredness and memory, sighing in the sepia light of the temporary shelter they had erected in a enclosed alcove out of the back of their transport vehicle. It worked relatively well, considering how little time it had taken to set up; their large tent tethered to the GMC's tailgate and back-doors and spreading out behind it. It wasn't the most comfortable of set-ups, but they had all thought this would be a quick assignment; in, out, two days tops. That's what Hannibal had said when they took the job. Security options were minimal for guarding the surrounding area, and they would take turns on night watch. There was always straw-drawing to see who would sleep in the back-seat of the car; there not being enough room in the tent, what with the beds and the space taken up by their equipment. Most of their supplies were cached around the countryside in certain areas, abandoned farms or with people who supplied them, but they'd had to bring the essentials- food, survival gear, guns, and anything else they might need to storm a small military base. This time, Murdock had picked the short straw, but as usual, never seemed that bothered, the pilot having the natural talent of being able to sleep anywhere with only his usual red cap over his eyes, even on occasion the cockpit of the recent air vehicles they had 'commandeered' (by that, they usually meant stolen or borrowed without permission)

They all had gotten used to living uncomfortably sometimes over the years they had spent based in Iraq and being on the run meant they fared no better. Being fugitives had meant doing without some of the luxuries they had gotten used to. They never stayed any one place for longer than a few days between jobs, moving around to where they were needed while trying to avoid detection from the CIA and the new 'Lynch', whose tracking abilities, it seemed, seemed far more ruthless and superior than his predecessor. He was good, that even Hannibal had admitted, and they always had to stay one level ahead of the game if they were to outwit him. None of them had much of a wish to be imprisoned again. Six months had been ample time inside, and although each had found their own ways of surviving- whether it was Hannibal planning as he usually did, Face making a name for himself as the go-to man inside, BA trying to find something to fill the long hours or Murdock losing himself in the safety of the collected madness of his fellow 'inmates' -, none of them wanted to go back any time soon. So if roughing it sometimes was the other option, they would all take it without complaint.

They didn't have to survive on a totally minimal existence; the payment from some of their jobs more than helped to supply them with weapons and vehicles and necessities, and all of them had been in service long enough to not count comfy beds and an active social life as things of importance. That being said, sometimes when they managed to put the CIA off their tail- Hannibal considered that the searching would die down the longer they were in hiding-, drawing the officers completely in the wrong direction, Hannibal would give them the go ahead for them all to stay in a nice resort for a while. Nothing too high-key and for no more than a couple of days, but it gave them all the time to wind down. Sometimes when options were short, it was just a small motel to lay their head down for a few days- Hannibal paying the shady-looking innkeepers enough to keep their mouths shut about the four of them being there- but even that was better than nothing, and it gave time for them all to have some of their own space for a while, with no paranoid fear or flicking round every time a door slammed or someone shouted. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a few wanted men to be able to breathe easy for a short while and if there was one thing Face could say about Hannibal Smith, it was that he looked after his team.

_It's my responsibility, now. _

Face sighed again , collecting himself for a moment before gazing up across the table at his two comrades. He'd seen enough action with both to know the subtleties of their moods quite well, knowing the nuances of their emotions from one look at their posture or expression, and he could see the state of turmoil both were currently occupying, thoughts of Hannibal weighing heavy on their already burdened shoulders, as it was weighing on his own. He wouldn't have expected any different. Hannibal was their leader, their friend, and Face knew that in some ways he was a father figure to them all. Not that Face considered Hannibal in any way a surrogate dad to him; the idea was all a bit Saturday-morning drama for him, and they'd both been through too much to be building up that idea. It was just that it felt like Hannibal was the dad of their family sometimes (Murdock had affectionately called BA the mother of their group once, but the sergeant hadn't taken it well, glaring at the pilot and threatening to kill him-again- and it had called upon Murdock to make his coconut curry tapenade (with added toast points) to be forgiven for his slight) , the way he advised them all and watched over them , in the way a colonel watches over his team, and some of these things helped fill the 'parent-sized' hole in Face's life that he'd always thought he'd never fill.

They'd all had pretty poor father's as things went- Bosco had never known his father, being raised by his mother- who , when Face had met her, seemed the sort of formidable woman that could tell a fully grown BA off for not keeping her kitchen tidy, despite her relative smallness compared to her son. Face had liked her immediately, grinning as the old woman told four wanted 'criminals' in a no nonsense voice to 'wipe their feet when they came in the door', because if there was any mud on her carpet there'd be trouble. He could see where Bosco had gotten his strength and temper from ( Face also enjoyed the fact that he now had ammo to use against BA for teasing purposes, especially when he found out that Bosco still got referred to with his childish nickname of 'Scooter' by his aged mother.) Murdock's mother- as far as Face was aware- died when he was five, and the pilot never really mentioned his home life if he could help it. It was one of those things that Face felt Murdock didn't want to talk about, and Face respected his privacy in that.

Face himself had been considered an orphan for most of his life, being mostly raised by priests at the orphanage where he had spent his years up till he was old enough to hit out on his own- a childhood that had left him open, but not entirely convinced, about the concept of religion, and the practice of being able to wheedle toys and books out of the most sullen kids there, an art that had only gotten better as he aged. He'd always thought his father must have been dead, knowing that his mother- Samantha- was because she'd died not long after he was born , until it was revealed his father was the criminal- AJ Bancroft- that they were meant to be targeting for a job. That episode wasn't a happy part in Face's life , and it was a chapter he was quite comfortable putting past him. Having seen how the man acted so close at hand, pitiful and underhanded, had ruined his vision of his father that he had housed from an early age- the idea of a man kind and considerate, the sort of father kid's always dreamt of when they hadn't one of their own- , but it had reassured him somewhat that a man he was indefinitely closer to- Hannibal- was the sort of man Face would have wanted his father to be. The sort of father anybody would have wanted. Hannibal might not have been a father to Face, but he was everything else; the con-man's oldest friend out of their group, his mentor, confidante. As a leader, he was the best man for the job, and he commanded respect from the three of them that they gave willingly because they knew he deserved it.

And now he was in danger, and they were all concerned like hell for his safety.

BA was better at hiding it than either Face or Murdock, standing to the side with his arms folded and an intimidating mask upon his face, - as though he was just imagining tearing the bastards who might hurt his Colonel limb from limb- running his hand constantly along his Mohawk, an action that also acted as his tell in poker, a movement that told Face when the Sergeant was worried. In this case, Bosco's emotions had gone a few levels past just 'worried'. If there was one thing that could be said about the Sergeant's emotional states of anger, it was that he never did experiencing them in halves.

While BA was a tower of pent up anger however, Murdock was the exact opposite as usual, fidgeting in his seat with a myriad of expressions loping across his face. He was wearing another one of his t-shirts again, the ones that always made Face smile, and today's read the message; "This Space is Unoccupied". In the circumstances, Face couldn't find the energy to even smile at it. He could see the pilot wanted to say something, loudly and angrily and probably in a language none of them could understand- or maybe Face could strike lucky and Murdock would babble in one of the romance languages like Spanish or French, ones that Face actually knew and could speak fluently (most of it learned for the ability to be able to pick up exotic women) -but the turmoil of his thoughts and worry for Hannibal kept him relatively quiet. It was like he didn't quite know what to do with himself, and the Lieutenant watched him as he bit the skin of his lips as he frantically considered ways they could get the Colonel out of there, Face watching the original optimism of the thought displayed itself in a slight raise of the eyes , before the clear flaws presented themselves and his brow furrowed in irritation with himself. Face knew that Murdock, for all his madness, was a clever man when he put his mind to things- it often occurred to him that Murdock had skirted the line between genius and madness and had just fallen off on the wrong side-, and he knew that the pilot took it as a personal affront when he couldn't solve something he should have been able to. Normally, he wouldn't have taken it upon himself to consider in-depth ways of solving a problem, because by that time Hannibal would have considered, thought about and put together a plan, but it was Murdock's way of doing something- anything- to try and fix what was wrong.

Face knew that both were waiting for him to say something; in Hannibal's absence he was in charge, he was the planner and tactician, but he doubted his own abilities as he stared at the map of the compound Hannibal would still be in. He wasn't the planner, he was the con-artist, the pickpocket, the joker, who spend more time womanising his targets then actually trying to get what he wanted off them . He had, admittedly, planned before, managing to trap both Pike and Lynch in an idea sprung from a simple party game, but that wasn't before Murdock had been shot in the head and they'd all nearly been killed by the containers that they were standing on collapsing without warning. Face believed it a fluke that they'd all got out of that one alive at all, but now the burden was being placed on his shoulder again. And this time it was Hannibal's life at stake if they didn't get him out of there.

"Hell, Facey," Murdock seemed to have finally decided to say something. Somebody had to. "We need to get Colonel outta there." It was a statement of the obvious, but it did well to actually voice aloud what they were all thinking. Nobody had wanted to break the silence shrouding the tent.

"He knows that, you crazy fool" BA replied in his usual brusque way, glaring at the pilot as he looked down at the map before them. Murdock ignored him, as was usual, and jumped down from where he had been sitting on a pile of boxes filled with guns and grenades, moving closer to the table. He didn't speak any more, having made his point, just looked at Face as though waiting for a miracle to happen. He didn't deserve Murdock's trust, Face considered as he ran though options in his head. For a second, irritation flared as he wondered why it was just _him _who everyone was turning to for guidance, but then it went as soon as it came, leaving only the worry and some vestiges of guilt. Even though Murdock technically outranked him, Face was the one who was in charge. It was his job now to think of something, and he would damn well do it if it offered a chance of helping Hannibal. He owed it to the man not to lose it when he needed him the most.

"You have a plan, Face?" Bosco asked, unfolding his arms and placing his hands down on the table. Face didn't reply for a moment, considering all the facts at his disposal and blocking out the outside as of secondary importance for the time being. Usually when Hannibal was thinking, he just lit a cigar, and by the time it had burned down to the nub he would have a fully formed answer. Face didn't smoke- although he had once complained to Hannibal that for every cigar he smoked, Face smoked half-, so stayed silent, breathing out slowly as he forced his thoughts to lay themselves out before him like a pack of cards. The Ace of the pack, and the crux of the issue; Hannibal was being held in the military base of some obscure Nigerian Warlord no-one out of West Africa had heard of. They'd gotten that much information about Hannibal's condition from BA's hurried hacking of some of the uncoded signals they'd picked up coming from the base, Murdock translating enough for them to be assured that Hannibal was still alive. The Jack of Hearts and the not-so-simple answer to the problem; they needed to get Hannibal out. But how?

Face's mind was jump started now, and his head whirred with half formed plans and ideas. He mulled over a straight forward fire fight. No,that wouldn't work- the Nigerian had too many men with too many guns. No matter how strong they thought they were as a unit, no matter how clever, in the ocean of their lives there was always a bigger fish. They'd all have gotten slaughtered before they even got to Hannibal. Sneaking in? But there was still a problem of the deadlock doors, and Face knew that if they were sighted even for a moment, the doors would come down and they'd all be trapped inside. The safety of BA and Murdock were his responsibility now as well, and he had them to consider. Anything he did would be a risk upon them all, but he all knew that for the other two as well as him, the fact was irrelevant. Hannibal was their friend; everything else paled against the significance of that.

"_Greater love hath no man than this," _Face thought suddenly , the quote appearing from nowhere, the curse of living the first decade and a half of his life in a Catholic environment "_that a man lay down his life for his friends" __John 15:13, _he recalled, and shuddered internally, hoping that whatever happened, it wouldn't come to that. Hannibal may have sacrificed himself to get Murdock and Face out, but up till now Face had stubbornly maintained that it was only a temporary situation, that Hannibal wouldn't actually be hurt, or even- God forbid-_ die,_ because of them.

"Face?" BA asked again, but Murdock shushed him loudly.

"Keep your mouth from going jibba-jabba for just a sec, huh? ." he said, not unkindly but directly, strangely using BA's turn of phrase to talk to the Sergeant. The pilot knew that Face never felt confident when he was in charge of the plan making; his own personal doubts and worries filtering into the process. Murdock had been there when Face had told him this truth the first time he'd had to go out on a limb alone, when Face had let the pilot in on what was bothering him. Murdock wasn't as unreceptive as they sometimes thought, and he had known immediately that something was bothering the second in command as he came up to the table on which the plans for trapping Lynch and Pike were being run through again and again. "_We've always gotten back alive," _Face had told the pilot honestly "_the four of us, because of the old man. I'm not Hannibal" _And without hesitation, Murdock had replied, saying exactly what Face needed to hear, even if he didn't know it. "_Who has the most to lose on this, Face? Me. And I trust you." _Face had never asked what Murdock had meant by him having the most to lose, knowing it to be one of those unspoken things that the pilot would never reveal to anybody, but the fact that Murdock trusted Face so implicitly gave him courage, gave him hope. " Facey's thinking, and all that revved up thinking juice he's got sloshing round his brain is needing to focus on this problem. You and your questions, they just distractin'"

_Distraction. _The word pounded in Face's head, neon flashing lights of a revelation behind his eyes. He knew that it was important, but it took a few more seconds of using his 'thinking juice' for the relevance to smash into him with the weight of BA's GMC. He glanced up at the two, his head raising slowly and smiled to himself with a trademark grin that had charmed many ladies and helped him look trustworthy in many scams.

_Distraction._

"You lucky Face is here, madman. I would break your face"

"You can try, but I got ninja skills. An' I got Billy, who'd just go in and bite you real hard if I give the say-so"

"That fool-ass invisible dog o' yours? Hell man, you _is _crazy"

"Guys!" One word from Face silenced the two immediately, their petty squabbling forgotten, and they both turned to focus on the second in command.

"You got an idea, Facey?" Murdock said quietly, looking unsure. He was as concerned about Hannibal as the rest of them were, and Face recognised that sometimes the mental instability of his actions were used to mask up his own fears. Murdock was perhaps the member of the team Face was closest to, the pilot backing him up with a frightening tenacity and care that came only from the closest of friends. Murdock was nothing if not loyal to his core, and through their closeness, Face came some way to understanding the strange world of Howlin' Mad Murdock. The pilot made him laugh , fed him kerosene flavoured burgers and his own special variations on recipes that should have killed him but didn't- although he still remembered getting some temporary Bell's palsy from Murdock's 'special sauce'- , quoted pop culture and sang loudly and out of tune for the mere reason that Face looked down about something .Their friendship was cemented from the day Murdock set Face's arm alight, and had survived many scams and cons together. Face wouldn't have wanted a saner friend than Murdock, and he knew that in his own way the pilot was grateful for Face giving him a chance. He supposed that it was hard for Murdock to make friends being how he was, and asides from Hannibal, Face was the only one who was never really that concerned by Murdock's quirks. He let the pilot watch cartoons, didn't mock his outbursts but often responded in turn just as crazily, and one night when Murdock got angry with BA constantly calling him a 'crazy fool' , cursing at the Sergeant in German ( the outburst the result of too many long days trapped in one place with the man) Face responded in the same language, helping him calm down using broken phrases of German he'd attempted to learn from the pilot. Murdock appreciated his friendship, trusted Face with his life, and that was never more evident than it was now. Face may have been a liar and a con-man, but he would never lie to Murdock, would never deliberately hurt him. Whatever Face said, Murdock would go along with it if they had a chance to save Hannibal, regardless of any safety issues. They were a team. Each member was probably mad in his own right to have survived in their group so long.

Face studied Murdock and BA, the smile still evident on his face as thoughts whirred in his head, slotting the pieces of the plan together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"I don't have an idea, Murdock. I got one better than that" he grinned and winked at the other two "I got a plan"

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_AN/-Series References, borrowed from Frank Lupo and Stephen J. Cannell : Episode's **'Family Reunion', **'**Moving Targets' **and '**Lease with an Option to Die'**_

_As an off topic comment, I thoroughly recommend a story in the TV/A-Team section by **Reckless. **The story is called '**Through the Valley of Clichés'**, and it pokes playful fun at all the overused plot devices in the A-Team hurt/comfort genre; e.g. Kidnap/Torture of a team member (and yeah, I'm guilty as charged :-)), miracle medical cures, etc. Some of the jokes are strictly TV-canon, like references to Maggie Sullivan/Dougie Kyle (ubervillian :-)) and 'Nam, but regardless, it's a great read for any A-Team fan. It also contains Mary Sue bashing, which is enough to keep anyone happy. :-)_


	3. Part 3

_AN/- Thank you to **Wild Dog- untamedcainine** and **silverwolfneko-chan** for reviewing (especially **silverwolfneko-chan,** who helpfully reminded me of my sacred duty as a writer and helped me turn away from the dark side- despite the cookies :-))_

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The first part of Face's plan had been the simplest of the stages in what was to come, and simply involved him getting caught.

BA and Murdock hadn't been enthusiastic about this part when he had first gone through his plan with them- "_You fool to go in there on yo' own, Faceman. You gonna get yo'self killed!_"- but after a short heated discussion he had managed to convince them that it had been a necessary evil. 'Distraction' was the word that Murdock had unintentionally planted in his brain, and that was the role Face needed to play like a born Thespian if they were to succeed in this. The plan, as it went, had undoubted flaws at some points, but Face had questioned Hannibal enough to know that sometimes, you just had to do with a leap of faith , and in Murdock's analysis, Face was doing the version seen in Indiana Jones (one of Murdock's favourite films after Star Wars), in which the eponymous hero stepped out over the seemingly bottomless chasm in the hope that there was an invisible bridge to stop his fall. It felt like that to Face; only this time, he wasn't so sure that the bridge would be there when he got to it. But it would have to do, because it needed to be done. BA, Face had sent over to Obesandjo's military cache to get a certain piece of important equipment that they would need for their eventual (Face hoped) escape, and Murdock had snuck into the base earlier- using his 'secret invisibility skills' that the ninjas had apparently taught him- getting ready and into position for his part to play in their plan.

All Face had had to do was make himself visible to a couple of guards- looking as though he had decided to come back for Hannibal with a poorly thought out vision of rescuing his colonel, which to a couple of generally clueless guards probably just backed up their stereotyped vision of Americans; stupid as they were arrogant. It was not an idea without flaws- he'd had to put up a fight that was convincing enough against getting captured, and he was sure that at some point in the fight, he'd used one of the strange Igbo curses Murdock had taught him (Igbo being one of the three most spoken languages in Nigeria asides from English, Murdock unsurprisingly being able to speak both Igbo and Yoruba quite fluently). It seemed to work, because after Face had shouted "_Agwo tupiakwa gi amu!_" at one of the guards he was fighting off- hoping he'd got the pronunciation right-, the tussle had become a little more violent, and Face's jaw hurt from where the butt of a guards rifle had knocked him to the floor.

Now, held by the two guards in a tight grip , he was being half marched and half dragged to another corridor. He flexed his hands experimentally in the handcuffs one of the guards had drawn from his pocket, feeling the cool metal against his bare skin and- as he tested them quietly without the guards notice (to them it would merely look like he thought they were too tight)- he ran his fingers the small give where, if he pulled hard enough, the cuffs would break. He sent up a silent thank-you that Murdock had managed to plant the fake cuffs on the right guards this time (not like in Venezuela) , and calmed his nerves with the thought that at least the plan was working out so far. He hoped his good luck would continue; although by the feeling in his jaw, he didn't feel very lucky.

The guard to his left- that Face was watching out of his peripheral vision while his head was turned forward- grumbled words into the comm-link in his ear, shaped like a blue tooth earpiece that bankers and wannabe secret agents wore, the replying words in a fast garble of what Face thought was Yoruba that the conman unfortunately didn't understand. _Their most spoken language is English_, Face thought to himself irritably. _Why can't they just talk in that?_. But he saw the logic in it- not speaking in a language Face could understand could cut off any risk of important information being overheard- and he supposed most of these soldiers were bilingual anyway, with at least some local dialect being spoken fluently. Interestingly, the guard on the right hadn't understood when Face had cursed him in Igbo (it had taken the guard on the right to react before he understood it was an insult), but he seemed to have been able to translate Face's English curses pretty well- and had reacted accordingly, considering that when Face put in the effort, his insults became Malcolm Tucker-esque in their creativity and crassness. The guard seemed to have understood the gist of them quite well, which was probably why Face's jaw hurt so much. Still, he was slightly put out with being unable to understand the guard. It would have made more sense for Murdock to have taken his role, but the pilot's linguistic skills in Nigerian dialects were needed somewhere else. So this time there was no Murdock with him, no BA, no Hannibal to back him up if he got into trouble. He was on his own for the moment.

The guard replied curtly to the orders on the end of the comm, cutting off the link before giving a near-imperceptible nod to his comrade, answering a question that had not been spoken aloud for Face's benefit (even if he couldn't understand what the hell they said). Face felt himself being dragged again to a room further down the corridor they were currently on. He followed where he was being taken with the map of the building in his mind, his brain filling in the direction he had already been taken from where he had been captured. His breath hitched for a mere second in his throat as he saw that they were drawing closer to the room they had known Hannibal would be held in. They'd had all the Intel about the base for the mission of retrieving the suitcase, and this was the room the last guy their employers had sent to recover the package had never come out of. Face shivered slightly, but he didn't have time to properly think about this however, as a sackcloth bag appeared from nowhere to cover his head. The material was scratchy against his face, and the condensation from his suddenly faster breaths made the air he was breathing in humid and uncomfortable.

He panicked momentarily, shocked by the sudden darkness, struggling against the hands holding him till something cold and metal- the barrel of a handgun- dug into his back, giving Face a very clear message about what would happen if he didn't quiet down and shut up. He hadn't expected this in the plan- it couldn't be that leap-of-faith moment already could it?-, and for a moment he wondered pessimistically whether they weren't just going to kill him now, a bullet in his back with no way of trying to help Hannibal. Or worse, what if they did take him to Hannibal and shot him in front of him, made the Colonel suffer by watching the death of one of his men when his co-operation could have prevented it. _We've always gotten out of this alive, all four of us, because of the old man. I'm not him. I'm not Hannibal. _

He took deep breathes, the air clammy in his partial prison, relaxing his mind down by going through the plan in his mind, step by step, moment by moment. He knew what he was doing, and the Nigerians weren't dumb. They wouldn't kill the American prisoner, not if he had information they wanted- they wouldn't immediately try to dispose of him-, and they definitely weren't going to succeed in murdering him if Face had his way. He'd rather not die- truth be told- and all the possible angles of this mission when the three of them had planned it had been covered. In none of the versions did Face have to die for it to work. It would be fine. _Who has the most to lose out of this? Me. And I trust you._

His sense of direction had been seriously messed with when the sackcloth had found its way over his eyes, but with the map being followed in his head, he assumed that they were nearing the 'interrogation room'. The room several hired mercenaries had been lost in before the A-Team had been hired. Face had his fingers crossed that his name wasn't going to be added to the growing list.

He was suddenly aware of voices up ahead of him, as he heard a creak of a door opening slightly, just enough to let the sound out. Face knew it was for his benefit, and he stood stock still as he listened to what was being said. He sensed that his guards were standing still too- as though waiting outside the door for some permission to enter, but Face ignored them for a while as he focused all his attention on the sounds he could hear.

" You aren't going to tell me, are you Colonel Smith?" A harsh voice spoke first. Nigerian-sounding, Face analysed. English speaking, apparently fluent. He wished he hadn't the damn bag over his eyes so he could see. "Why aren't you going to accept that your team isn't coming to get you?"

"I have complete confidence in my men" _Shit_, Face thought, recognising that brogue anywhere, the deep voice that could only belong to one man. _It's Hannibal. _His mind considered the words overtime, attempting to get every bit of information he could out of the little he was being given. Did he sound hurt? Despondent? Injured? It came as a small relief to Face that Hannibal still just sounded like himself, gravelly voice full of pride and strength. Face found himself buoyed by this knowledge, and calm that he hadn't known since Hannibal had been left behind filled his being for a moment with vigour. He could do this.

"I'm sure you do." The voice spoke again "We looked up the files on your men while we were looking up yours. I've got to say, I've never seen a collection of more degenerate men. Your second in command, Lt Peck- according to his file- has a list of complaints as long as my arm for items requisitioned on army expenses" he laughed, as though he found it funny "and your vehicle expert- Bosco isn't it?... was dishonourably discharged from the Rangers for punching a superior officer. I mean, Colonel I don't mean to be rude, but your pilot actually belongs in bedlam straight-jacketed, yet you trust _these _men with your lives?"

"Why not?" Hannibal didn't seem deterred by anything that the man had said. If anything, Face thought he detected a hint of pride in the Colonel's voice, sedately unfazed by the pointing out of his teams personal issues. But then, Face considered, Hannibal had always known about their issues. He'd fought tooth and claw with the top brass to get the three of them in his team, when between Face, Murdock and BA , they all had complaint files so thick they probably played havoc when they tried to fit them into all-ready overfilled paperwork filing cabinets; Face with his scamming equipment with army funds (having said that, he'd never been caught or charged with anything solid), Murdock with his antics and using the planes when no permit was given (the pilot, it seemed, didn't like to be told when and when he couldn't fly by his 'superiors'), and BA having been thrown out of the army before Hannibal could convince the generals to have him reinstated as a member of his 'Alpha' team. Face had never understood why Hannibal fought so hard for the three army rejects they were- undisciplined, argumentative, and headstrong- but he'd always wondered that maybe that was why. Hannibal didn't need his men to just do his orders, he needed them to think, to act with their own initiative if it came to it, and he trusted them to follow his orders if they were important enough. And they'd never let him down yet.

There was a small laugh from the other man, like he was seeing Hannibal's belief as some sort of joke but there was an undertone of cruelty in it , a tone just underneath the surface that Face immediately didn't like. It was like a magician about to reveal his first trick, except the connotations of that here were far more sinister than some child's circus act.

"Very well. I can see your faith needs a little bit of shaking for you to tell me anything." He shouted a word in Igbo that Face didn't understand, but it was obviously a signal to his guards. They hefted him up in their arms, holding him tighter, the gun pressing harder against his back like they were some shady gangsters in a bad American cop drama (Face personally didn't like them, but BA- when he'd wrestled TV control away from Murdock and Face- liked nothing better than to sit down and watch them) Then the voice shouted out again, this time in English- most likely for Hannibal's benefit. "Bring him in!"

Face heard a door opening wider, endeavouring to see anything through the minute holes in the sack cloth. It was getting so hot in his secluded breathing space , the bag itchy and so damn dark, and he cursed with an inner monologue that he couldn't see what was happening. He sensed himself being pulled into the room, the hands clenching tight around his bound wrists just in case he tried to make a break for it, and then the guards stopped, just holding him in place, like a prize to be presented to a lucky winner. Face heard the door close loudly behind him, cutting off any hope of getting out of here, and hoped quietly to any God that his plan would work. He knew Murdock jokingly prayed to the sky gods once or twice in particularly hairy flights, and sometimes acted as a Native Indian Shaman , doing the rain dance to irritate BA. Of course Murdock had also masqueraded as a Rabbi once, but that hadn't worked out so well after the passport mix-up with BA. On a whim Face chose the sky gods with a smirk to send a small prayer. He didn't mean it, but if there were any sky gods up there- he wasn't really bothered which- some of their help would be nice. But he doubted it. It wasn't as though he was expecting any divine intervention.

"What's this, Moraneu?" Face heard Hannibal speak, close to him now than he had been before. But for the first time Face heard an element of fear enter the Colonel's voice. Hannibal didn't know who was behind the sack cloth mask, was trying to guess from some of the other details he could see; height, clothes. "Is this more tricks?" _He was afraid, _Face suddenly realised. _Afraid that one of us might have been captured_. Hannibal had obviously taken in the clothes Face was wearing, confused by the jeans and a t-shirt that was being worn instead of Face's usual suit. He would have been able to tell Face by his height, but the clothes were more something Murdock would wear. Hannibal wasn't stupid enough to not know that the guard he had identified as Moraneu would only bring in someone if the identity of the captured man would hurt him, could be used to his advantage. As soon as Face had heard the guards name, he had instinctively reacted, closing his eyes as he recalled the file they'd been given on Obesandjo's chief interrogator, an icy caress of fear sliding up his spine. Some of the details of what he'd done to previous captives were... not pleasant. And Hannibal knew that too. Face wanted to say something to reassure Hannibal, to tell him everything was ok, that they had it covered , but kept his silence for the moment, well aware of the gun still sticking in his back. He'd stick to the plan. That's all he could do.

_Sorry Hannibal, _he said inside his head.

"No, no tricks Colonel" the cold voice of Moraneu spoke a little to his right . "Just honest facts" There was a pause, and then he detected footsteps as the man began to pace across the stone floor over to Face. "You were right you know." he said to Hannibal, talking as he walked , and Face felt it as the man came to stand by him, the waft of cold air like an ominous omen.

"About what?" Hannibal tried to sound nonchalant, but Face had know him too long to be convinced by the act. He sounded suspicious. Apprehensive. Even a little bit afraid.

"Your team. They are _fantastically _loyal to you , it seems. How many years have you been working together? Eight legally, another two as renegades. They must mean something to you then?"

"What are you getting at?" Hannibal was sounding angry now, not wanting to play any of Moraneu's little mind tricks, and again Face wanted to say something to reassure him so badly.

"Well, if I said that this was in fact one of your men?" There was a gloating tinge to Moraneu's voice now. "Why don't you say hello, Lieutenant Peck?"

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_Reviews are love and feed the muses =]_


	4. Part 4

The cloth was drawn from his face suddenly at the sound of his name, fresh and cold air suddenly upon his face and Face squinted as the sudden light of the room hit him with force. It was too bright for a moment, and he wanted to shield his eyes but for the handcuffs preventing him.

As a scammer and con-man, his eyes were well trained into taking note of things very quickly; to check for dangers or exits or guards, taking in the details that mattered on a glance of the surroundings. It was a skill that came in handy now. From first glance, Face noted four guards in the room; two holding him- that he could see only out of the corner of his eye-, one standing to the right behind Hannibal , and Moraneu, the one who had spoken, standing nearby to Face. That guard, who looked of higher rank than the other three, his green uniform decorated with more braided red strips of rank on the side of his arm, appeared exactly like Face would have imagined. Mean, his smile upturned in a cruel and callous way that suggested he liked toying with people before he killed them. He stood tall, his eyes greedy to see Hannibal's reaction at the display of his prize, and his expression was arrogant, that of a man who always got what he wanted no matter how long it took.

The room itself was exactly what Face had come to expect from clichéd interrogation rooms, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, wondering why kidnappers and terrorists never seemed to add their own touches to the interior decoration of the cells. The layout was that of a square room, the walls and floors grey concrete like the rest of the building, with the only illumination that of a harsh white light bulb in the centre that shone light down on a chair placed directly in the centre. Air ventilation shafts upon the ceiling crossed to the right of it to let recycled air into the room so that the inhabitants could at least breathe. Small mercies were obviously allowed.

What attracted Face's attention most though, was the familiar looking man tied down to the chair in the centre, his arms and legs fastened tight with thick rope to prevent him from escaping. His iron grey hair looked slightly tussled, but Hannibal Smith looked well, considering the circumstances, and compared to the horrors that Face had imagined the Colonel going through. He'd been been beaten, from what Face could see, his lip burst and cheek bruised and probably more bruises on his torso that were hidden under his grubby shirt. The darkness around his left eye suggested a growing shiner and there was a red stain by his nose from where he'd bled. The wellness of his look however, came not from what injuries Face could see but from how Hannibal appeared . Obviously, the bruises weren't something to just pass off, and Face was sure they had hurt like a bitch at the time, but the spark of life was still in Hannibal's pale blue eyes, a solid gaze of strength in the raise of his head that told Face that Hannibal hadn't been broken, hadn't allowed himself to even doubt the possibility he'd get out.

"Face?" Hannibal frowned, his familiar brogue making Face suddenly want to grin, because now Hannibal was here, everything felt as if it would be ok - although he supposed that, as Hannibal would probably have been considering an escape plan ( when did Hannibal _ever _not plan ahead?), Face's appearance would have screwed it up royally. It didn't seem to matter to the colonel however, as he looked his lieutenant over, as though trying to assess the damage. His eyes saw the blossoming bruise on Face's jaw . It wasn't as bad as finding Face trapped in a case of burning tyres, in the process of being hung in some General's Mexican backyard, but it wasn't much of an improvement. Given the choice, Face was sure Hannibal wouldn't want either of them to be here, but Fate had played them both a bad hand, and , although Face's hidden cards were good, he had to hope he'd be able to hide his tell for long enough to be able to show his hand."Well, nice of you to drop by" Hannibal sounded as though they'd both simply met on a stroll through the park, but one look in his eyes gave Face the chance to read Hannibal's unspoken question; _What the hell are you doing here?_

"Well I said I'd come back, didn't I?" Face gave his Colonel a cocky grin, answering both the spoken and unspoken question. "You know me. I don't like missing the parties that are going on. Messes up my _plans_, you know?"

Hannibal looked up slightly at Face's choice of phrase, and a bemused expression came upon his features as he saw the slight nod of Face's head, telling him what he needed to hear. They locked eyes for a moment; brown against blue.

_I hope you know what you're doing, _Hannibal's eyes said and Face grinned back, smirking slightly on the outside despite his reply being unspoken.

_When have I not? _Face hoped to God he was telling the truth about that one.

"So," Face put on his most winning smile, and grinned at the room's occupants. The guard at the back shifted uneasily as Face smiled, as though he wasn't sure how to react to a man who was grinning like he'd just walked into a party full of old friends, instead of a man who was captured with no obvious means of escape. It was the way Face reacted to most bad situations, laying on the charm and making a few tasteless jokes- General Tuco certainly hadn't approved of his humour, due to the fact he'd tried to hang him, but Face supposed that having sex with his wife and baiting him about it was also probably one of the reasons he had wanted to kill him. "What have I missed?" He schooled his face into something resembling mild concern "I hope I'm not too late for canapés."

"We were discussing Colonel Smith's rescue party" Moraneu said , taking in Face with a shark-like grin, obviously pleased to have a joker in the room. "But if you are all it entails then I must admit, I am a little disappointed."

At that moment, with timing dictated it seemed by the gods, Moraneu's comm link beeped tinnily , signalling an incoming call. Pausing for a moment, he pressed a finger to his ear to take it, listening to the Nigerian voice on the other end. Even though Face knew what he hoped it was going to say, he still felt again some irritation borne of helplessness because he couldn't understand what the voice was saying. Call it American arrogance, but Face liked it when people spoke English around him. It improved communication no end. Of all the languages Face could speak (it was a running joke within the team that if either Face or Murdock couldn't speak one language, the other would be able to), and they numbered a few when he took them into account (although being able to say 'One wine please' in Welsh didn't count), when he actually needed to understand one it was fate that he couldn't and Murdock could. But then Murdock, in his extroverted geeky way, could manage quite well in Klingon- by most people's standards, a fictional language (although it had been a help no end when they'd been hired to break up a counterfeit ring working out of a Star Trek convention). Still, Face liked languages he knew, and he resolved to ask Hannibal to take this into consideration when they took their next case (if this plan went accordingly). Somewhere in the South of France,, that would be a nice place to save pro bono locals from evil corporate mooks, get to know the ladies and have a chance to tan. The prospect didn't sound bad at all, but he had more pressing matters on his mind right now.

As Face watched Moraneu, over-analysing every movement the man made, every twitch of his jaw, every expression upon his face, he saw a frown spread across his forehead as Moraneu took in what the call was telling him. As he discussed the subject in what seemed to be Yoruba, the tone of his voice the sound of a man who was trying hard to stay calm and collected, Face held back the temptation to smile at the satisfaction the man's reaction was giving him . He had to remain focused about this, and grinning like he knew exactly what was happening despite the man and the caller talking in a foreign tongue, might arouse suspicions that Face couldn't afford. They had one shot at this and he couldn't afford to screw it up with hotheaded stupidity, rushing into things because he thought it was a good idea. That had been the old Face, the Face who had once tried to take on General Tuco alone simply because he wanted to save a girl he probably wouldn't remember the name of in a week. The new Face was the one who had changed from ten years of plans and tactics, learning from Hannibal enough to understand that thinking ahead of the enemy was always a good plan, and that thinking three steps ahead was even better.

Moraneu cut off the link with a push against his ear, his expression showing a hint of irritation before he regained his composure. Then, as Face watched and waited and hoped, he seemed to come to a decision internally, gesturing to the guard at the back of the room and one of the guards holding Face, giving them snap orders in a babble of language. Face didn't have to listen to know what they were going to do, and he could almost hear Hannibal's voice in his head. _There's a plan in everything, kid. _The new Face might seem like the old on the outside; womanising and cocky, but the new Face thought things through, learned patience when before he had had none. He'd once told the Colonel that he'd never read the 'Hannibal Smith How To Manual', a sarcastic remark from a time long past and mostly forgotten, but he must have retained some of the knowledge within it's pages .On escaping with the newly met BA and newly acquired Murdock from the 'Hospital San Vicente de Paulo', Hannibal had said something, something which Face recalled now in a dingy cell in Nigeria. _What's the most important part of a well oiled plan Face? To be one step ahead of the enemy_. And for once Face had taken that advice to heart.

The two guards Moraneu had spoken to nodded briskly, and in view of a watching Hannibal and Face, walked out of the small cell, leaving only Moraneu and the other guard holding Face. Again, Face resisted the urge to grin. _One step ahead of the enemy, boss, _he thought, and winked to Hannibal, who had looked at him as the men left as if he knew that it was his doing. It wasn't exactly direct interference, but Face and Murdock had been studying Moraneu's character as they had planned through every facet of the rescue operation, knowing full well that if Face was caught it would be Moraneu he was taken to. The man was arrogant, thought that he knew all the tricks his prisoners could play to outwit him. He was smart and cruel and thought to a certain extent that he was invincible, that nothing could touch him, and it was this that the two of them had focused and played on. He liked a challenge, but always one that he could win. And while he had sent away two guards when none were strictly necessary, he still considered two guards against two prisoners sufficient, especially when both were restrained in some fashion. Despite the levelling of the ratios he still believed that nothing could hurt him. And that would be his downfall.

Moraneu looked at Hannibal and said, as though playing the host at an important dinner party;

"Apologises, but it seems that I was mistaken about the rest of your team. They seem to be making some trouble for us, over on the west side of the building. Obesandjo has brought this to my attention, and I have deemed that some backup should be sent. I hope you don't mind, but I am well aware of your team's history for getting out of seemingly unwinnable situations."

To Face, he said, expression dark and threatening: "I should worry about your friends, American, if this is part of some little game you're playing with me. Believe me when I say they will not be spared" A small smirk flitted across his face, as though he had thought of some way to goad his prisoner. "Maybe we kill your sergeant first, hm?" His face moved closer, whispering the words into Face's ear, every word making his skin crawl, his body automatically wanting to shy away "I've heard him and your pilot are quite close." Moraneu went on, "Maybe we can make the Capitan watch, make him beg for the Sergeants life before we put a bullet in his brain anyway." His voice lowered, twisted depths revealed as he imagined the scenario, and Face tried not to think about what he was saying, small unspoken prayers fluttering in his head to the omnibenevolent god that the priests of his childhood believed in, wanting the threats of this man to never come true because it would be his fault, the flaw in his plan and he'd never be able to forgive himself. "If he lives, it should make for quite interesting sport." Moraneu smiled, shark-like "I've never broken a mad-man before"

Face made an effort to ignore him, staring unseeing past Moraneu's smile and Hannibal's' concerned frown, blanking everything as he ran over the plan in his mind to calm his raging thoughts down. He knew well that Murdock could look after himself, but his mind tried not to imagine all the same what would happen if they failed. What would happen if the other two of them were caught. _We've __always made it out alive, the four of us, because of the old man._ He shook his doubts out of his head, telling himself that when the time came to really worry about something, he'd know . He felt silently pleased when Moraneu seemed put out by his lack of reaction, turning away from the second-in-command as though he had expected clichéd threats about all sorts of interesting ways he'd suffer if he dared lay a hand on the pilot. But Face held himself back. So-far the plan was going well, compared to how badly it could have gone wrong. It was all down to Murdock now. Putting his trust in certifiably insane pilot might not have seemed the best idea to any outside, but up till now the man had played his parts well ,and in the ten years Face had known him, Murdock had never let them down. He wondered whether part of the man's luck was due to the fact that he was seen as a weak-link being a functioning lunatic, and not worth worrying too much about, but Face knew better than to underestimate a man who had broken out of four mental institutes to date- the last break-out being the time Face and Murdock had met (using what seemed to only be various disguises or accents or even just objects he'd found lying around and had used to concoct some mechanism by binding them together with tape), and who possessed a photographic memory that could put Good Will Hunting to shame ( admittedly, his memory was a little... 'selective', focusing more on obscure pop culture references than anything that could actually be deemed as useful, but it had never let them down yet)

Moraneu looked over at Hannibal, who had been silently studying Face since first the call for Moraneu came through. By now Hannibal had probably figured out about the cuffs- because he knew (or hoped) that Face wasn't impulsive enough to allow himself to be captured without some sort of escape plan- and from Face's lack of reaction regarding BA and Murdock against half a Nigerian army, was possibly considering the idea that the two weren't really in danger. Hannibal knew Face, knew that any threat upon another member of the team would induce some sort of reaction, especially with Moraneu's comments regarding Murdock- Hannibal was well aware how close to the pilot Face was, and he knew that if the other was in trouble, Face would not have hesitated to react by now.

"Now before all that," Moraneu spoke finally again to Hannibal, and Face came out of his reverie to turn his attention back to the interrogator. He needed to focus now, because for the moment, he was on his own. The window of time between one stage of the plan and the next was the one area Face had been concerned about, and now it was here, he knew he had good reason. "I have some questions for you, and unless you want to be on the top layer of the same morgue drawer as your friends will be , I suggest you answer"

"I don't know how I can help you, I'm afraid" Hannibal looked up at Moraneu, meeting his gaze unafraid. "I'm just here for the sightseeing"

Moraneu smirked, although there was no humour in his expression "I shouldn't have expected any less," he said thoughtfully, walking in front of Hannibal as if they were just two conversing acquaintances instead of prisoner and guard "You probably wont give me any of my answers." He paused, before a dangerous look tinted the smile spreading across his face "But your Lieutenant Peck might"


	5. Part 5

_AN/ Well, here it is guys. The final chapter. Again thanks to the awesome reviewers of this fic (you know who you are) and I hope you enjoy this. _

* * *

"You dare touch one hair..." Hannibal started, his expression for the first time morphing into something other than the un-agitated and collected front he usually exuded. It was rare for the colonel ever to lose it, ever to deviate from the level-headed leader that he was, but there were few and memorable times when Face had witnessed him mad. Usually when his team had been hurt, either by their own stupidity (he definitely hadn't been happy when he'd had to save Face's life in Mexico, because Face just hadn't wanted to stick to the plan; _You almost got me killed, you almost got him killed!_) or by others.

One of the outstanding examples of this stood out in Face's recollection, the loud banging of a judge's gavel and cries for order chorused by Hannibal's outraged shouts: _"This is a disgrace! An absolute disgrace! _, as the three of them struggled in the arms of the oncoming guards; Murdock trying to pull away, demanding that they get their goddamn hands off him, BA joining in with his loud angered baritone, while Face had shouted at Sosa in the courtroom, _You happy? You happy Charisa!. _The expression on Hannibal's face had stood out most of all in that sea of noise and struggling; a disbelief that they'd been accused of their crime coupled with a guilt that stoked his anger. They'd been due to head out of Iraq, have some leave, but they'd done that one last mission for Morrison, one last job, one last plan. And that was what had screwed his men over, what had signed their imprisonment sentences in cold hard ink. That moment- when the system he'd served for so long burned him and his unit- and the point of the realisation of Morrison's betrayal (_You're a liar. And a traitor!) _had been the few times Faceman Peck had ever seen Hannibal almost lose it. It was not a comfortable sight.

But there was an open threat now in Hannibal's voice, undisguised from any listeners, and the words he didn't say were just as loud in his voice and expression as if they had been spoken. _You dare, _his eyes said, _and I will look for you, I will find you, and I _will _kill you. _It was restrained and held back by control sculpted over years of practice, but the tone still send a shiver up Face's spine. The dark gaze in Hannibal's eyes, the potential for violence that he saw there, scared him more that the idea of what Moraneu might do to him.

Moraneu just chuckled, the process an amusement for him.

"Spare me the theatrics, Colonel. I'm well aware that you wont talk, but what if he will?" He turned to look at Face, "Where are the plans being taken, Lieutenant?"

"Like he said" Face responded, giving another smile in the guards direction, as if daring him to do his worst "Sightseeing. It was going to be Rome this time of year, but you know, once you've seen one old and religious building, you've seen them all. Tour guide recommended the middle of a Nigerian despot's fortress. Said the weather was nice this time of year" Face swore he saw Hannibal smirk out of the corner of his vision, but it could have been his imagination.

Moraneu smirked, looking at Face with unreadable intent for a few seconds, before nodding to himself . However, instead of lashing out at Face as he had expected from the comments he had made (because being this long in the business, he'd learned that bad guys really didn't like back chat. Spoiled the scared-shitless effect they were usually going for) , he turned back to Hannibal. Before Face had any time to speak, the guard's hand had lashed out, striking Hannibal hard across the face; a loud solid sound that made the conman cringe. He glanced around at Face, repeating his words in a painfully clear voice.

"Where are the plans being taken, Lieutenant?"

"You get the hell away from him,"Face growled back, a sudden fear growing in his chest. This hadn't been covered in his plan. "you get the hell..." Moraneu struck Hannibal again, only this time harder, the colonel grunting quietly in pain as the sound of flesh against flesh echoed in the small room. And then again, the intro to a predicted rhythm of aggression. Face knew Hannibal could take it, knew it had happened before, in Mexico and in a dozen other places since then because being in danger of being hurt just went with the job package, but Face had never had to watch it happen, and it hurt him. He kept up his loud litany of threats, begging inside his head for Murdock to hurry the hell up as he watched the hand clench into a fist and come down again, causing blood to begin to trickle out of Hannibal's nose, following the same path as the blood that had come before. The next fist caught Hannibal in the gut, winding him as the colonel grunted again, coughing as he tried to take in breath. Moraneu didn't say anything, just focused on Face. Like he was waiting for something; a come-back, begging , pleading or giving in and telling him what he wanted to know.

Then, as soon as Face was on the verge of trying to break the hell out of there himself, continuing his own internal argument in the process- _he has the handcuffs sorted, there are only two guards, he can take them- But what about the gun pressed into the small of his back?- Sod the gun, he can handle it- He's no use to Hannibal shot- Hannibal wont need any use for anything if Moraneu keeps on the way he's going_ -he heard the signal he had been waiting for; another beep of Moraneu's comm-link that cut off halfway, as though the call had been abandoned. Moraneu paused, waiting for a split second to see if the call would pick up again, before shrugging, readying his fist to hit Hannibal again.

"Stop!" Face shouted loudly, hoping his voice sounded desperate enough. It wasn't hard to get the right tone to his voice and he struggled slightly in the grip of the guard holding him to add a bit of effect "Stop, ok, I'll tell you, just get your hands off him ,ok?"

Moraneu frowned suspiciously ,as though he was expecting the whole process to take a lot longer, and to Face, it seemed as though he was put out by the fact he had not been able to hurt Hannibal more. He obviously liked the challenge Hannibal's non-cooperation presented him. Nonetheless he turned away from Hannibal to look at Face, unclenching his fists and dropping them to his side. Instead, reaching down the side of his belt, he brought out a knife from the leather sheath that Face had not seen, the blade cold and gleaming in the harsh light. Suddenly, the gun at Face's back didn't look so threatening, not compared to the weapon Moraneu held now in his hands.

"Stay quiet, Face" Hannibal's voice was out of breathe but strong, centring his gaze up at Face with warning in his eyes, diluted by a small flash of worry he didn't quite manage to hide from his lieutenant. Face locked eyes with Hannibal, hoping he was portraying a look of reassurance, trying to tell him silently that he had this one covered. _There's a plan in everything kid, _he thought wryly to himself, quoting the Colonel as he watched Moraneu walk over, every step seeming to taunt him with its closeness. Moraneu didn't need to hurry, he had all the time in the world for this to happen, for him to convince Face or Hannibal to talk. And he knew his prisoners knew that too, knew that he could keep them here for as long as it took; an idea that made Face shudder in the cold circulated air of the cell.

"Hush now, Colonel" Moraneu said quietly as he stopped in front of Face, "Your boy's talking now". He held the knife up so Face could see it clearly , watching his reflection shimmer in the silver, seeing a familiar tussled young man looking back at him. Face, by his own admission, was quite vain about his appearance, BA once commenting that his toiletry requirements of various creams and lotions mirrored the cosmetics aisle of a superstore. None of them complained much about it however, especially when Face's walking 'miracle potions' (Murdock's labelling of the items) helped him look good for many a scam. Templeton Peck had been nicknamed 'Faceman' for a reason, his good looks and natural charm helping him seduce and con his way into getting most of what the team wanted. And if a little bit of time spent on a skincare regime was all it took, the other members were happy to put up with it, just as they put up with the other quirks each of them possess; Hannibal's thick smoky cigars, Murdock's singing and BA's hang-up about his GMC (he still didn't trust the pilot near it after the 'accident' in Mexico). Just now however, Face hoped he'd live to see his own reflection again. From the disquieted expression on Hannibal's face, and the grinning one on Moraneu's, at the moment his chances weren't looking too good. But it was up to him now; the first signal had been given, and the ball was in Face's court, whether Moraneu was aware of it or not.

The guard in question moved closer, and Face took in a shocked breath that he couldn't contain as the cool flat edge of the knife touched the side of his face, running down his cheeks in a dangerous caress "I hope you wont lie to me, Lieutenant" Moraneu intoned, moving the knife down slowly, his voice dark and threatening "We wouldn't want that pretty namesake of yours damaged would we?" The knife moved over Face's neck, gentle, deadly, the pressure not hard enough to break the skin, but enough that Face could feel every second that it was in contact against him, trying not to freak out slightly as it crossed where he knew the carotid artery was housed. He forced himself to stay still, to not react, not to give Moraneu the satisfaction, not even when knife came to rest over near his shoulder blades , straying there as though paused in the deadly game the guard was playing. He attempted to replicate Hannibal's composure. "I want a sensible answer from you, or believe me soldier..." Face grunted quietly as the knife was pushed down suddenly, digging into his skin- _It's ok, it's not bad, keep quiet, don't let him win, if Hannibal can manage then so can you-_ cutting through cloth and causing blood to well up as Moraneu pushed the knife down dangerously slowly, slicing the skin. Face bit his lip to stifle a groan of pain as the knife dug in deeper, drawing fresh blood. "...you will regret it"

The knife relocated away from him, and Face felt that he could breathe again. His mind focusing again from the blind panic that it had housed moments before, he let out a small laugh, giving his best Faceman grin to Moraneu. Because it was all about the style.

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," he said cheerfully, the grin unnerving the guard for a moment "You never know if I might do something completely..." he paused "...completely howlin' mad"

It was about then that all hell broke loose.

* * *

All in all, Face considered, the secondary distraction Murdock had provided had worked quite well. Yet upon giving the final signal, even Face had not been prepared for the airborne ranger leaping out of the air vent shaft, the grill covering any possible exit for prisoners having been opened above the heads of the room's occupants, a hollering Indian war cry upon his lips as he did so; a sudden bellowing sound that added to the shock of the man suddenly flying out of the ventilation system.

Everyone had immediately glanced up to focus on the abrupt noise and moving figure, and it was a point of pride to Face- although it was more of a coincidence than anything he had specifically planned- that the positioning between where Murdock had jumped out and where Moraneu had been standing couldn't have been better. The guard had made a peculiar strangled noise as Murdock had landed hard onto his back, wrapping his arms around his neck and legs around his torso, clinging to him like a child who'd been granted a piggyback from an exhausted parent. Admittedly, it had been a shame that Moraneu hadn't just dropped with the impact, his legs buckling from the extra weight, but fate couldn't play them every hand right. To his credit Murdock held on with the tenacity of a rodeo rider as the guard had bucked and struggled; transitioning from being in complete control of his two prisoners- or so he had believed- to shouting and cursing at the American who was currently riding on his back, his knees digging around his hips and forearms choking and restricting his throat.

Face wasted no time in reacting at the sudden intrusion in the split second that every happened in, and he snapped apart the handcuffs with relative ease, the pieces of useless metal clinking to the floor, whirling clockwise with his fists raised to knock the gun out of the other guards hand ; the panicked man in the motion of aiming it at the madman clinging to his superiors' back. The gun clattered to the floor, the sound resounding but lost in the commotion . Then Face was been forced to duck as the guard attempted a punch at his namesake.

Murdock, from what Face could gather , was doing well to keep his grip, and upon sighting the bemused looking Colonel watching the proceedings, unable to participate being tied to a chair, had raised his red cap from his head in a gleeful salute at seeing his CO, giving a 'Yee-Haw!' in his best southern drawl.

Face had forgotten about the knife in Moraneu's hand until he detected Murdock's hiss of pain, the blade piercing a cut through his arm as the guard made a desperate attempt at freeing his neck from the choke hold the pilot had upon it. Murdock didn't let go however, swearing in a language Face couldn't hear clearly and tightening his grip. Face dealt quickly with his guard (really, was it too much to ask for people to learn to fight properly these days?),striking him into unconsciousness with a carefully placed left hook to the temple after feinting to the right to get the man's guard down. Once that was done, he felt no sorrow in quickly tearing the knife out of Moraneu's grasp and delivering a solid punch at his stomach; thinking about Hannibal and the ache in his shoulder and how this all could have gone so badly but hadn't.

With the sudden knock to the balance he had so far maintained despite the lunatic giving him a piggyback ride, Moraneu wavered and crashed down hard, Murdock unfortunately bearing the brunt of his fall. A blow to his temple from the fallen gun that Face had picked up had finished the job, knocking Moraneu unconscious. No killing when it wasn't necessary, but God, had Face been tempted.

Murdock awkwardly manoeuvred himself out from underneath the dead weight , scrabbling to his feet, Face holding out a hand to help him up. That done, he gave a usual sunny "Thanking you, Facey!", as though the two hadn't just been engaged in an intense but dangerous game of buckeroo and fisticuffs, with the added elements of guns and knives. He wobbled on his feet momentarily, before going to collect the knife from its position on the floor, stealing the leather sheath from the unconscious Moraneu and pocketing it. After witnessing another example of Murdock's hoarding tendencies (although admittedly, it was a nice knife- well balanced and sharp- and it would be just a waste returning it to the scum that had been its owner), Face caught the bundle of keys that Murdock had also 'borrowed' from the guards person and had thrown in his direction, and made his way over to the door, fumbling through the various shaped pieces of mental to find the correct one, locking it to prevent any soldiers from getting in (although they were probably used to such a racket emanating from the interrogation room).

"When I said 'distraction' Murdock," Face smirked at the pilot as he twisted the key round, "I wasn't really expecting a one man cavalry. That was... bat-shit insane"

"S'why I did it" Murdock returned his comment with a contented grin as he moved quickly over to the centre of the room, using the knife in his hand to hack at the tight rope binding the colonel to the seat. "Anyway, it worked didn't it?"

"I think you did admirably Capitan" Hannibal spoke with a faint smile as his bonds were efficiently cut, standing up after the last of them was broken. He stretched his arms as his muscles got used to the sudden freedom, rubbing the indents around his wrists where the rope had bitten him with harsh red rings, before his posture straightened. Tall and with his usual considered expression on his face, he seemed again like the old Hannibal.

"An' ain't it just a pleasure to see you Colonel" Murdock spoke aloud what the two of them were both thinking.

Face could give an odd lopsided smile at Hannibal , trying not to beam like an idiot with relief. The Colonel was finally safe in his mind. He ran a critical eye over the man, checking that no damage was life threatening but it seemed not. Hannibal appeared the same as he always did; unruffled, with his prematurely white hair just a little bit out of place, looking like he really wanted a smoke.

"Good plan, Face," Hannibal nodded his appreciation to his the second in command, and Face's smile threatened to widen. "That arm of yours, okay?" he enquired to Murdock, the pilot glancing down at the line of red almost as though he'd forgotten about it till then.

"It's A-OK, Colonel" Murdock didn't seem in pain so Face supposed the wound was mostly shallow. The pilot's expression turned worried for a minute "Just... don't let BA near it, ok? He's been hankerin' for an excuse to stitch me up with a pretty thread picture like ma' lightening bolt. And he ain't getting' near this with any needles"

Hannibal laughed, "I'll make sure to tell him. Now," he said, looking at Face "You have been paying attention after all. I'm surprised " His tone was playful, not serious about his shock of the well thought out element of Face's tactical knowledge. "I gather you placed fake cuffs on the guard then?"

Face nodded " Murdock came in first to plant them on specific guards. Then it was just the case of making sure I got caught by the right ones"

"I'm assuming that that call wasn't from Obesandjo, then" Hannibal's expression was of someone quickly piecing the jigsaw of his circumstances together. "And that you and BA," he turned to Murdock "weren't engaged in some two-man warfare against half the militia round here"

"'Wouldn't a' minded," replied Murdock ruefully "But Facey said it was 'unnecessarily risky'" He used air quotations with his last two words.

"BA hacked into the comm-lines, made it so only messages from Obesandjo's frequency would get through to to the Moraneu's comm. All other frequency's were blocked as a result, so no-one could get in touch with Obesandjo's comm " Face explained, rolling his eyes at the pilot standing next to him "Then Murdock took care of our Nigerian friend and pretended to be him."

"Should go into business" Murdock interjected "Make a fortune impersonating despots"

"And how is Obesandjo now?" Hannibal questioned the pilot.

"All tied up nice 'n tight in his office," Murdock looked proud of his non-lethal handiwork "Special scout knots so he ain't gonna be getting outta them any time soon" He glanced at Face "He might be getting outta them now though. Some guards came knocking when the Big Boss Man wouldn't answer their calls, so I had to get into the system earlier than expected. Still called this guy, " he nudged a toe in Moraneu's direction "from the right frequency," he held up an ear-comm from out of his pocket "so it's not too much of a bother"

" BA helped us find some of the plans for the air conditioning system," Face detailed to Hannibal, before tuning back into Murdock "Are they on their way?"

Murdock shook his head "Not immediately. General was unconscious when I left him, so it'll take a while for them to deal with his shouting first. I'm sure they wont come through the same way I did, so they'll have to working out where I would have been heading. Should give us enough time to get out " Face flicked his eyes impulsively over to the door , checking it was locked, glancing down immediately afterwards in a swift continuing motion to take in the time his watch displayed. Not long now.

"I've got to hand it to you, you did good with this one kid" Hannibal smiled warmly at Face, the sort of smile that went hand-in-hand with pats on the back or manly handshakes. "Except for one small thing." At Face's tilt of the head, a confused frown on his face, he elaborated "How exactly are we going to get out when you've locked the door? Those guards are going to realise that three American's in the period of two days is a bit suspicious, so it wont take long to figure out that Murdock would have been trying to get to here. Not to mention the guards you sent off on a wild goose chase. I don't think they're just going to let us walk out of here."

Face smirked again, and glanced down at his watch, noting as the red second hand met up with the twelve at the top. Point perfect timing, that's what he had told BA. "Don't worry, Hannibal," he supplied confidently, although Hannibal didn't actually look worried (when did he ever?), merely curious; a light in his eyes that wondered with a quiet smile what Face was planning. "There's a reason why BA isn't here right now"

And there it was, finally, the rumbling; a loud thundering roll of sound that started off distantly but with every second gained closeness and an increase in volume. The stone structure around them trembled timidly with the vibrations, and the sound became so loud that the three of them could almost believe that whatever was causing the noise was almost upon them; a low searing complaint of noise that was interjected by pitiful screeches of squeaking, like rusted wheels turning despite a great load.

"Step back!" Face shouted, and the three of them moved out of the way as with a loud 'crash' the wall before them was broken through, in a flurry of plasterboard flakes and cement chippings, the vehicle that had caused the damage barely missing the unconscious bodies of Moraneu and the other guard.

The tank was grinding to a halt, and the break in its momentum in the form of the wall helped the decrease in speed somewhat. After it stopped, there was a shocked lull, before the top was opened with a turn of the hatch , the hinge whining, and a familiar face looked out at the now dust-covered individuals standing staring at the armoured vehicle before them.

"Get in fools!"

"I ain't never wanted to see your ugly face more than now, Bosco!" Murdock crowed playfully, having known that this would be the method of transport, and was the first to move from the back of the room up to the beast of the tank in front of him, clambering up the side foot rungs and practically assaulting the man before him with a hug.

"Get yo' hands off me!" BA pushed the pilot off , Murdock giving a pout as his affection was rejected, and ducked down out of the way of the entrance so that Murdock could jump in; not being big enough for two at once to fit through. His head popped out again quickly, and glared at the two remaining soldiers seriously "Well? You just gonna stand there, an' wait for those guards to wake up?"

"A tank, Face?" Hannibal smirked as he was awakened from his reveries, moving forward to their escape contingency.

"When you got the supplies around you, why not put on a show?" Face grinned back and followed the older man up the rungs. "We needed a way to get past those doors, and it turns out that our Nigerian general has a good taste in armoured vehicles"

Hannibal shook his head as he manoeuvred himself down into the cramped insides of the tank. Once Face had quickly followed after him, shutting and locking the overhead hatch, he smirked again, seeming like the Hannibal Smith that Face had missed , the Hannibal Smith that would always be there for his boys "Knew I could count on the three of you to come up with a plan"

The tank jolted with BA at the controls again, backing up out of the crumbling room, before doing a u-turn that probably broke down at least three walls; the sound outside of them muffled but obvious.

Face glanced at Hannibal, a contented light in his eyes, the feeling that everything was as it should be "And don't you just love it when they come together?"

Hannibal rolled his eyes, and Face laughed, leaning back against the wall of the tank. Hearing Murdock and BA arguing in front to him , the roar of the engine nearly blocking them out, seeing the boss before him; safe, well. Everyone back where they were meant to be. The Leader and the Conman, the Pilot and the Mechanic. A mix-and-match dysfunctional family all together again, as the tank rumbled out of the compound, bullets hitting the back from guards that weren't frozen in place, and bouncing off with no damage.

A strange family, but as Face looked around, a definite family none-the-less.

* * *

_I'm not too sure about the ending, but c'est la vie. It's done now. Again, I hope you've enjoyed this, and if you want, please drop off a review with some feedback. =]_


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